


silence of the night

by hoverbun



Category: Persona 3, Persona Series
Genre: Drabble, M/M, Nonbinary Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-01 18:14:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12710283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoverbun/pseuds/hoverbun
Summary: A moment between two dying souls is like a heart in the back of your throat.





	silence of the night

**Author's Note:**

> shinjiro uses they/them pronouns.

Bones that don’t fit their body wrapped tight in rough skin. A head full of teeth that knock together. Broken wood charred from old forest fires, that will snap if they take the wrong step. They deal with it. They’ve always had to deal with it.

Shinjiro's body is at war with itself. Arisato looks at them like he can tell.

The others, in their overwhelming need to control their collapsing lives, pretending like they don’t know the world’s going to end, wash themselves in an optimistic hope, smile through Shinjiro and pretend the rot in the back of their throat isn’t belligerent and cancerous. Either they don’t know, or they do, and hope crushing their soul in their clean hands can help them. It doesn’t.

The smiles are understanding. The questions aren’t ignorant. They're a well meaning crowd, no matter who tries to break the glass wall Shinjiro has put up. Arisato, however, doesn't do that. He'll stand with Shinjiro on a street corner and not walk until they take the first step. He'll sit at a table and won't speak until Shinjiro does first - and sometimes they don't at all, because Arisato doesn't watch them like he's waiting for the silence to break.

Mutuality, dualism, metaphors that talk about woven destiny and purposed fate when both of them just question what really exists - their conversations are ripe with silence and understanding. They sit together. They look at each other a lot. Silent companionship.

They’re alone. The dorm isn’t their home, and Shinjiro knows this. The silence is consuming and rolls down the uneven angles of their skeleton, burrowed inside. Minato leans back and has one leg over another, like his comfort can be faked. Or maybe Shinjiro is just too dramatic.

It’s a couple of glances. It’s some question about plans for the night, if they’ll bury themselves alive or be back in time for the group expeditions. The silence tangles in the shallow breathing of Shinjiro's moth-kept lungs until Arisato tells them he'd like them there. Shinjiro puts their hands inside of their coat pockets, open hands laying over their thighs from inside. The couch is uncomfortable. As they do with everything - they manage.

They don’t like to lie around him. They might do it anyway, but Arisato will let them chalk it off to compulsion.

Arisato moves a little on the couch, and Shinjiro feels a pressure on their shoulder, all narrow and hollow and nursing the tired body of Minato Arisato, who wraps an arm around the one he's resting against.

 _It's not even midnight_ , Shinjiro doesn't say. 

 _It's not about midnight_ , Minato doesn't reply.

The kind of exhaustion that hits you when you feel your body's energy drain like a sink without a plug. The way your eyes sink down and your body wants to crash to the ground but sleep won't take you. The moment you feel your back start to ache, your eyes start to strain, but you keep going. A rest on a couch won't change that. There's no remedy for responsibility.

Minato isn't the type to tell you nothing is wrong when it isn't. He's just the type not to say anything at all. That's the kind of dying Shinjiro recognizes like a two year trauma, and they exhale as a response.

Shinjiro leans their head against Minato's. Minato hums a sigh and closes his eyes.

They're a long ways away from the end. A midnight respite together is still something they deserve.


End file.
